<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Oh, when you love it (oh, when you used to sing it to sleep) by bellapendragon</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696224">Oh, when you love it (oh, when you used to sing it to sleep)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellapendragon/pseuds/bellapendragon'>bellapendragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RCU (Rocinante Cinematic Universe) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Dumb emotionally repressed boys, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:40:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellapendragon/pseuds/bellapendragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amos is six years old when he stops feeling fear. He can’t really remember the sensation of it anymore. All he remembers is this: once, there was fear. Then there was Lydia instead, and the fear went away.</p><p>He is thirty-seven years old when he meets Praxidike Meng, who seems to feel nothing but fear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amos Burton/Praxidike Meng</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RCU (Rocinante Cinematic Universe) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Start by pulling him out of the fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I haven't read these books and I didn't go back and watch episodes to make sure any dialogue was consistent because who has the time for that! So there are probably a lot of inconsistencies with canon in here. Anyways, I love Amos Burton and I couldn't stop thinking about how much I love Amos Burton and especially when he is with Prax, so I just started writing some feelings. </p><p>This is for Gennie, the only other person in the world with my exact correct opinions.</p><p>Warning: brief mention of child sex trafficking/prostitution in reference to Amos' past, but no descriptions. Also mentions of violence when Amos shoots people. He likes to do that.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amos is six years old when he stops feeling fear. He can’t really remember the sensation of it anymore. All he remembers is this: once, there was fear. Then there was Lydia instead, and the fear went away.</p><p>He is thirty-seven years old when he meets Praxidike Meng. He thinks nothing of the man, except to notice, distantly, that fear is practically rolling off of him in waves. This is nothing new. Amos is familiar with the role that fear plays in most people’s lives, and what he brings to the table by not being one of those people. When he shows Prax to his new living quarters on the Roci, he’s paying far more attention to the distant humming sound coming from the air vents. He’s looking forward to spending a full afternoon tuning up the filters in the air supply. There was probably time to say something comforting, but he was never good at that kind of thing. He’s closing the door behind him when something compels him to turn around. The doctor is sitting in the bunk (and Amos will admit this, he’s a far prettier sight than that bunk’s last occupant), elbows propped on his knees, head in his hands. Even from outside the room, the grief tensing up his body is obvious. Amos blinks. Opens his mouth to say something, but can’t, for the life of him, think of what. He walks away, but not before closing the door, gently.  </p><p>---</p><p>For as long as he can remember, Amos has picked his person to follow and never looked back. First it was Lydia. Then it was, well, Lydia. Then things went fucky and he ran, aimless but headfirst, into Naomi Nagata. When the Cant blows up and he’s suddenly one of four (or five, but it hardly counts if the fifth person’s head is still floating in space somewhere), his person becomes his people. Alex talks about things like love and family, but Amos knows he isn’t capable of all that. All he knows is: he has his people; he watches their backs. Doesn’t really follow the moral grounding in their decisions, but follows them anyways. Spray paints the Roci’s new logo onto the hull. Eats the lasagna that Alex makes and makes the coffee that Cap loves. Tends to the ship with Naomi in comfortable silence. These are his people. This is his home.</p><p>Prax is not the first temporary crewmember on the Rocinante, and certainly won’t be the last. Newbies don’t bother Amos- he just doesn’t get attached the way the others do. He mostly likes them (except for Miller because honestly, truly, Amos couldn’t give less of a shit), talks to them when they seem to want to. Minds his own business when they don’t. Kills them when he’s allowed, but he usually isn’t.</p><p>This time is different. He’s not the type to disobey Cap, but finds himself telling the Doc all about the protomolecule, and the crew’s real motivation behind finding the kid. He doesn’t really know why. He’s never had an issue keeping things from someone before. He doesn’t think too hard about it, just gives Doc the information and leaves.</p><p>(There’s a memory, though. Somewhere so far compartmentalized he couldn’t consciously access it if he tried. A five-year-old boy is scared. There is darkness. He is being forced into something he does not want to do. Later, he learns it will happen again and again. The boy cries. He wants to run away, but fear has paralyzed him. A woman holds him, cradling him. You will have to do this, she tells him. But I will tell you everything to expect, so there are no more surprises. And she tells him. The boy cries harder. The woman shushes him, wiping his tears and telling him that someone told her the same things when she first started. Knowledge helps, she says. Knowledge kills the fear. The boy stifles his sobs. Wipes the rest of his tears away himself. Nods.)</p><p>(It takes another year for him to accrue the experience to banish the fear, but the message sticks. Knowledge kills the fear.)</p><p>He doesn’t regret telling Doc the truth. Prax looks at him differently after that though. Less wariness in his eyes. More tentative smiles when he sees him. Sometime Amos even smiles back.</p><p>---</p><p>The air vents end up needing more than simple filter tune-ups, and the whole thing ends up taking days instead of hours. He loves it, whistles tunelessly as he works. He’s so caught up in banging in the new piece of tubing that he doesn’t hear footsteps approaching the hull until they’re right there. The doc looks more bedraggled than he had the past few times Amos had seen him. The frown lines seem permanently etched on now, the dark circles under his eyes much worse. He looks like shit.</p><p>“You look like shit,” he says.</p><p>This startles Prax into a laugh. He nods at the machinery around Amos. </p><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p>“Air vents are screwy. Been working on the problem spots the past few days, replacing old pipes and filters. This one’s the last one, been taking me all day.”</p><p>Prax nods again, absently. </p><p>“Could you use some help?”</p><p>Amos raises an eyebrow and gestures at the grease coating his coveralls. “No offense Doc, but you don’t really seem the down and dirty type.” </p><p>He seems annoyed by this. “I planted most of the greenhouses on Sector F myself, you know. Dirt in my nails for months, back pain for even longer.”</p><p>Amos shrugs and hands him a wrench, telling him to tighten the nuts lining the sheets of metal he had just installed. They work in silence for a while before Prax speaks up.</p><p>“I couldn’t sleep.” </p><p>Amos doesn’t say anything.</p><p>“I keep having the most horrid dreams. About Mei. About not finding her. Or about finding her and…” he swallows and doesn’t continue. Picks up the wrench again and tackles a new row.</p><p>Amos cannot fathom why the man is talking to him of all people about this, and really, what is there to say? It’s true that they may not find the kid. It’s true that they might find her dead. Or a weird protomolecule hybrid. Or, well. There’s more than one way to turn a child into something they’re not.</p><p>He clears his throat, still looking at the tubing he’s installing. “Tell me about her, Doc. What’s your kid like?”</p><p>Amos has always liked children. Liked their wide grins and ridiculous stories. Liked how small they are and how easy it was to pick them up and spin them around over his head like an engine fan. </p><p>Prax is silent for a long time. Then- “She likes carrots.”</p><p>Amos turns and looks at the man. “Carrots?”</p><p>Another length of silence before Prax half-smiles. “Carrots. It’s the first plant she learned about where the edible part grows under the ground, not on the leaves or branches. When I first showed her, she insisted on digging up all the carrots in the plot, even though most of them still needed growing time. Station manager almost had a fit over that. We had carrots in every meal for two weeks after that.” </p><p>Amos smiles at that, and Prax keeps talking. Tells him about Mei’s favorite color (green, because the kid practically grew up in a greenhouse), her favorite hairstyle (some kind of braids that Amos kind of wants to try on Alex now), the way she mispronounced porosity for several years (“povo-city”), the little skipping game her and her friends invented (he manages to convince Prax to demonstrate, and doesn’t even laugh too much when he falls over trying) the way she always wakes up smiling, no matter how early in the morning. His voice cracks at that last one and he turns back to the panel, though long finished with it. </p><p>Amos keeps looking at him. “You just keep picturing those carrots and braids, Doc. We’ll get Mei back.”  </p><p>Prax swallows and nods, but doesn’t respond. Amos moves closer at this and places a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“I’ll bring your daughter back,” he says with an intensity that surprises him. Prax looks back with an inscrutable expression. This time when he nods, it’s with a little more certainty.</p><p>They finish up in silence. As Amos is packing up his toolkit, he feels a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Thank you, Amos,” Prax says gently. By the time Amos can find it in himself to respond, he’s alone again.</p><p>---</p><p>Amos doesn’t mean to make a habit of it. It’s just that Prax’s quarters are right next to his, and as Cap and Naomi have proven, their walls aren’t exactly soundproof. He hears the cries (and yeah, maybe there’s a part of him still attuned to the sound of people being frightened awake), imagines the restless pacing happening at all hours of the night. So, he starts checking in. Once a night, after dinner, he knocks on the door and says goodnight. Tells him how long until they reach Io (like Prax doesn’t know). Nods and leaves. After a few nights, the door is always half open when he goes to check in. </p><p>One night, he’s about to leave when Prax clears his throat. He pauses and waits. </p><p>“Are you about to sleep?” The question is tentative.</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“Me neither. You could… stay? I’m going stir crazy in here.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Doc. What do you want to do? I bet Alex would be up for a viewing of that episode of Amar en Mars he’s always going on about.”</p><p>Prax huffs a dry laugh. “Tempting as that sounds, I really don’t want to bother the others. That is. If it’s okay with you.”</p><p>There’s no reason, really, why that should make Amos’ throat run dry all of a sudden. He nods. </p><p>“Well, you play any games to pass the time in Ganymede? Ones that don’t involve trying to skip and falling on your face?”</p><p>Which is how, after Prax smiles and shakes his head, he ends up dragging out an old board and explaining the rules of chess.</p><p>---</p><p>“So, I’ve been thinking,” Prax says while frowning at the chessboard one night. </p><p>“About moving your knight somewhere safer? Because really, I could kill it about three different ways right now.” </p><p>This distracts him. After another minute of contemplation, he moves the knight out of harm’s reach. Amos beams.</p><p>“Checkmate!” he crows, moving his bishop over. At Prax’s unimpressed glare, he laughs even harder.</p><p>“Very nice,” Prax replies, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Never let your guard down, even with a handsome mechanic.”</p><p>It’s a joke, the kind he makes ten times a day with the others, but Prax’s eyes slightly widen at that. Internally, Amos curses himself. Fucking idiot. The man’s only just started sleeping again, and here he was reminding him that he was essentially captive on the Roci amongst a bunch of strangers. </p><p>“I’m sorry Doc, I didn’t mean…” he falters, and tries again. “I mean. You can trust me. I’ll find your daughter. You’re safe here.” It strikes him as he says the words just how much he means them. He absently wonders when he started caring so much.</p><p>Prax doesn’t break eye contact, even when he smiles. He leans over and puts a warm hand on Amos’. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Something swoops in his stomach. </p><p>“So you were saying something. About thinking.” </p><p>---</p><p>Next morning, Prax brings the plan to the rest of the crew. Cap is asking about air quality levels, and Naomi is listing off the readings- not great, but no risk to the crew. Amos has been working on those vents for weeks, but they’re not quite what they used to be after the fire they took before Eros. Another two weeks on Tycho could have fixed it, but the protomolecule trail waits for no one.</p><p>Prax places his tablet down on the table. It’s a diagram of the ship, with arrows flowing everywhere and numbers crowded in every white space. Where there aren’t numbers and arrows, there are sketches of plants. A lot of them. The crew crowds around to look at it.</p><p>“About that. I had an idea.”</p><p>As he’s explaining the specifics of oxygen flow and air purifying plants, Alex laughs and comments that they’d be able to follow this a lot better if the writing wasn’t like chicken scrawl. The crew laughs, but Amos privately thinks to himself that there’s something beautiful about the writing. Like blurred footprints left behind by someone impatient to reach their destination.</p><p>---</p><p>A few nights later, Prax maneuvers a pawn just right and wins for the first time. Amos doesn’t see it coming.</p><p>“Never let your guard down,” Prax says, with a hint of a smirk on his face. Amos doesn’t fall asleep for a long time that night.</p><p>---</p><p>They reach a rhythm. Normal crew duties, making plant panels, eating Alex’s lasagna, alternating beating each other at chess, rinse and repeat. He never gets the air vents humming the way he wants, but air quality is up 19% and Naomi is pleased. Prax suggests adding oregano to the lasagna sauce, and Alex is pleased. Amos suspects that Cap could never truly be pleased, because James Holden is physically incapable of not carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. But the route to Ganymede is unobstructed, greenery is blooming everywhere, the air they’re breathing is cleaner, and the captain smiles more often. The worry lines never leave Prax’s forehead, but he smiles more often too, wakes up yelling less, so Amos considers it a victory. It’s in the quiet peace of this new dynamic that he realizes that at some point, he’d added Prax to his mental list of people to follow.</p><p>---</p><p>Amos has never had a moral compass. He has Naomi for that, and the others. She’s tried to talk this sentiment out of him, but Amos knows it’s just a fact. He’s no goddamn hero like the others. Just a particularly well-trained monster with a strong sense of loyalty. He goes where he’s told, kills who he’s allowed to, fights those he’s not, eats, sleeps, and shits when it’s time. He has no delusions about redemption or grand gestures. He doesn’t particularly give a shit how he dies, but he hopes he gets to screw someone over while doing it. The lack of fear makes him useful; the biceps make him powerful. Also, sexy.</p><p>But Amos has always had a soft spot for children, and an inviolable instinct to kill anyone who hurts them. He remembers how Prax recoiled when he almost wasted that chicken-obsessed fucker who put them on the trail to Prospero Station. Remembers the doc’s wide eyes and accusatory voice when he reminded Amos that he'd claimed not to be a homicidal maniac.</p><p>“Doc. He's a bully. And where I come from, bullies take desperate young girls like your daughter and force them into prostitution. And when they finally get knocked up, they peddle them to johns who get off on that. After they have the kid, they push them right back out on the streets, even before they have a chance to heal. And those kids? They use them, too. Some people deserve to be punished.” </p><p>It's more than he meant to share about his own experiences, but he needed him to understand. This is what he does. This is what he can do, for him, when they find whoever took Mei. A monster can be useful. Amos can’t forget the way Prax’s eyes hardened, and how he didn’t say another word until they got back to the Rocinante. A few days later, Prax thanks him for teaching him, and Amos bites back the reminder that his use is still to come. He knows from experience that this particular realization only happens in that moment, the one that hangs between life and death. So he just reminds him that they'll find Mei. That he has his back, no matter what.  </p><p>When they find that motherfucker on Io, he waits. Mei is holding his hand, trembling. She tugs on his arm.</p><p>“I want my dad. He said he was coming right back. Why isn’t he right back?”</p><p>Her eyes are wide and so much like her dad’s. He squats down until his eyes are level with hers.</p><p>“Alright sweetheart, can you do something for me?” He hates to ask this of her. Hates any moment where she has to rely on herself for strength, but he can feel it. The moment has come. She nods.</p><p>“I’m gonna go get your dad, okay? I want you to hold your friends’ hands here,” he guides her to two little kids standing near them with tear stains drying on their cheeks. Links their hands. “And count to 100, okay? You can do that, right? Your dad tells me all the time how smart you are.”</p><p>She sniffs. “I can count to 1,000,” she retorts in a small voice. He huffs a small laugh. </p><p>“It won’t take more than 100, but I’ll keep that in mind for future missions, okay?” He briefly ruffles her right sleeve and walks into the chamber. </p><p>Prax is holding a gun at Strickland’s face, but his arm is shaking. Sweat is beading on his forehead. He wants to tell him it’s okay. That he doesn’t have to do this. That he’ll hunt down every evil that darkens his door, rip anyone’s throat out with his teeth if it means saving Prax from this fate. Instead, he approaches slowly and lays a gentle hand on the gun. Lowers it, looking only at Prax. </p><p>“You’re not that guy.” </p><p>Prax blinks. Blinks again. Swallows, and finishes lowering the gun himself. Stares at him for a moment before breathing deep, turning around, and leaving. Amos follows for a few steps, long enough to see Prax back at Mei’s side. Their eyes meet, and Amos shuts the door.</p><p>He is that guy. He turns around and shoots the fucker in the face.</p><p>---</p><p>They don’t talk about it, but before they herd the children back down the corridors of the station and to the Rocinante, Prax puts his hand on his arm. Squeezes it tightly. He seems incapable of words, but his eyes are wide and shining with tears. Amos nods, and that’s that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And hoping that he will forget the smell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>THANK YOU to you beautiful people who read this! I'm verklempt!</p><p>Here's some more. Amos is going through a time. It will get better. Also don't fact check me on the timeline or the names of the kids because I made it all up. Pretty sure they have no actual need to dock at Tycho for a refuel before hitting Ganymede, but there they are anyways!</p><p>Content warning again for brief mentions to his past with trafficking/child sexual abuse/prostitution.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ship dynamic is totally different with five children on board. The quiet from their previous journey to Io is completely replaced by the giggles, shrieks, and occasional crashes that accompany the seemingly never-ending games the kids make up to pass the time. Any time Amos doesn’t spend working on the ship or watching footage of the Ring seems to be spent with kids hanging off his arms or requesting to be carried around on his back. For the first time in a while, he has three bunkmates. It’s unexpected. When the kids want to stay near Prax and Mei but can’t all fit into the small cabin, he’s quick to give up his next-door cabin and move to Naomi’s, down the hall. With the doc, Mei, and Raina settled next door, the other three are in his cabin. It isn’t until he’s flipping the lights off and heading out when he hears a small whisper.</p><p>“Mister Amos?”</p><p>Rin, the youngest in the group, is sitting up in the bunk and shaking like a leaf. Amos kneels down to meet his eyes. Rin’s little hand finds its way into his.</p><p>“Could you… could you stay? It’s dark. And scary. It was dark and scary there too. We were all alone unless the bad men came.” His voice cracks on the last word, and really, there’s nothing for Amos to do but grip his little hand and promise to stay if he drops the “mister”.</p><p>So, he finds himself part of a new routine. He camps out in the corner of the cabin and stays dutifully awake until all the kids are asleep. Rin usually wakes up crying three hours into the night, and Amos is there to brush the hair out of his eyes. After Rin falls asleep, Aarcha and Tilly wake up like clockwork, blinking wide, scared eyes until Amos sits between their cots and holds their hands. He rigs a light from the hallway to act as a night light for the cabin, which helps some. One night, Rin asks for a bedtime story and for the life of him, Amos cannot think of anything child-friendly. He ends up telling them a highly censored version of their legitimate salvage of the Roci, replacing gunfire exchanges with water grenade fights. This backfires when the kids, born-and-raised in Ganymede with no concept of water grenades, spend the next thirty minutes peppering him with increasingly excited questions about the concept and getting further from sleep by the second. Still, this is the first time Tilly sleeps through the whole night, which Amos considers a win.</p><p>And so, the days continue. Storytelling becomes a crew-wide activity at dinnertime, orchestrated by Amos so that Mei and Raina are included and he doesn’t have to dredge his minefield of a memory to come up with something appropriate by himself. The kids’ nighttime cries become more infrequent. Rin now falls asleep within five minutes of a night scare. Prax spends whatever time he isn’t doting on Mei and the others glued to his comms, trying to track down any of kids’ families that survived the Ganymede massacre. In the backdrop, the crew watches endless news of the Ring, preparing for the inevitable next mission.</p><p>--</p><p>He is so caught up in this new, strange dynamic that he doesn’t even recognize the issue until several days later. Mei has taken over maintenance of the plant panels entirely, a job that Prax seemed only too happy to cede to her after seeing her eyes light up at the sight of them. Under her father’s careful eye, she skips around watering and pruning, chatting away with the plants as if talking to old friends. When he can, Amos likes to be around for this. She introduces the plants to him by scientific name, digging her hands into the soil and pointing out root structures and leaf patterns with the occasional glance at her dad for confirmation. Amos nods and asks questions where necessary, but mostly watches in silence. He thinks how low the odds were for this outcome. Remembers so many kids who never had a chance. He can barely contain the relief he feels at the reminder that Mei will grow up so loved and protected. Feels a rare moment of satisfaction for having played a minor role in securing that future for her.</p><p>He glances up, expecting to see Prax smiling indulgently at Mei’s rant about soil moisture, and is taken aback to see the smile directed at him instead. He knows he should look away, can tell his eyes are wider than usual, but he doesn’t. He thinks he smiles back a little, but honestly can’t tell, distracted as he is by the weird swooping sensation in his stomach. Then Mei says <em>“Dad!”</em> in a tone that suggests she had tried to get his attention many times already, and the spell is broken.</p><p>He leaves quickly after that, citing the need to check in with Naomi about the fuel gauge. He sits in the engine room instead, wondering what the fuck was going on. There was nothing new about the doc smiling at him. Prax smiled at everyone. He smiled at plants. The man had the most expressive face he had ever seen. He was smiling all the time these days, Mei tucked under his arm and the visceral pain of losing her receded to a shadow in his expression.</p><p>Of course, things were different now. They were too busy these days for games of chess or quiet afternoons with plants. Everything from the moment they brought the kids on board had been so fast-paced, and he would never intrude on Prax spending the precious few quiet moments with Mei. Sometimes, though. Sometimes he still lies awake, staring at the ceiling, with the words “my best friend in the world” rolling around in his head. Yes, Prax had said them, but was there anything Prax wouldn’t have said to make Mei feel safe about staying with a stranger at that moment? And if it was true, how much could it really mean when everyone he knew on Ganymede was presumed dead? It couldn’t be hard to pick a best friend when Amos was one of four of his only friends in the world. Sure, Prax had spent more time with Amos than with the others, but it was a relationship derived from circumstance. And anyways, it hardly mattered when they were inching closer to Ganymede by the day, where the Roci would go back to a four-person operation.</p><p>At this thought, his gut clenches and he feels a rush of loneliness that he hasn’t felt since he was maybe nineteen, newly away from home (and Lydia). Accompanying this feeling is a sudden, unwelcome clarity: he’s been missing Prax, these past few days since the rescue. Missing his company, without even noticing it. Which is insane, because this was always meant to be a temporary housing situation, and in a few short weeks would revert back to the norm. They would be off to explore the Ring, Prax would be far away rebuilding Ganymede, and, well.</p><p>“Fuck,” he says into the empty room. The only response is the engine’s hum.</p><p>--</p><p>The next night, Prax sits next to him at dinner. They are listening to Cap describe Earth traditions, and the kids are horrified and fascinated by the myth of the tooth fairy. Prax looks vaguely nervous besides him, and Amos can’t help himself from leaning in to whisper.</p><p>“Thinking of ways to change the conversation before kids start trying to knock their own teeth out, Doc?”</p><p>Prax grins. “You read my mind.”</p><p>Amos laughs quietly. In the end it doesn’t matter, because Raina states very adamantly that the idea of some alien thingy stealing people’s teeth was creepy, and the others nod fervently in agreement.</p><p>“Why doesn’t the fairy just brush its own teeth properly so it doesn’t have to take other people’s?” Rin demands, and everyone is choking back laughter at the look on Cap’s face. It isn’t until they’re getting up to wash dishes that Amos realizes Prax’s arm has been slung around the back of his chair the whole time. He has to swallow several times to get moving again.</p><p>“God, get it the fuck together,” he mutters to himself while loading up the sink. Alex, who is on drying duty tonight, gives him a curious look at this, but doesn’t ask.</p><p>--</p><p>One afternoon, it is strangely quiet across the ship. Prax has connected with an agent on Ganymede who wants to get statements from the kids to try to find their families. Alex is helping them with the comms up on the bridge, and Cap and Naomi are in their cabin, probably fucking. They’ve been doing that a lot lately, and the reason only became clear two nights ago when they revealed that the fuel stop on Tycho would double as Naomi’s departure from the Rocinante. She’s joining the Belters, and Amos isn’t thinking about it right now.</p><p>There’s a knock on his cabin door, and he opens it to find Mei, unusually solemn.</p><p>“Hey Mei, what’s up?”</p><p>She follows him in and sits down with him on the bunk.</p><p>“Do you think my friends will find their families?”</p><p>Her eyes are sad and wide, and he hates that she’s already experienced so much fear.</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t know. I hope that they do. I know your dad is going to try everything he can to find them.”</p><p>She nods, expecting this answer. “I was so scared without my dad. I know my friends are scared without their families. I just want them to feel as safe as I do.”</p><p>She has a good heart. It makes him hopeful. This episode of her life won’t break her.</p><p>“Well your friends have you, and your dad. That’s good, right? Makes them feel a little less scared?”</p><p>She nods. “True, and they have you!”</p><p>He blinks at her.</p><p>“Uh. What?”</p><p>“You make everyone feel safe! Tilly and Aarcha says you’re the best at keeping the nightmares away and Rin says he wants to be big and strong and nice like you some day! And when I’m sad that my dad had to be alone for so long, he always tells me that you made him feel safe and less scared.”</p><p>He knows he’s staring in dumb silence, but he can’t seem to form any coherent response to this. Mei doesn’t seem to mind, looking up at him with that smile of gratitude so much like her dad’s. And because the shocks can’t seem to stop lately, she flings his arms around him, tight.</p><p>When she turns and whispers “thank you” into his ear, he can’t stop the hot sting in his eyes and the rush of emotion crowding in his throat. He finally closes his own arms around her, turns, and kisses her forehead.</p><p>“For you, sweetheart? Anything.”</p><p>--</p><p>That night at dinner, it’s Amos that drops his arm around Prax’s chair. It occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time they weren’t sitting next to each other at mealtime. He almost smiles, until Cap reminds everyone that they’re three days out from Tycho. He brings his arm back and pretends not to notice Prax’s questioning glance.</p><p>--</p><p>The evening before they dock at Tycho, he avoids Naomi’s millionth and Alex’s ten millionth attempt to talk to him by wearing himself out in the gym. About two hours later, he’s dripping in sweat and sufficiently pleased with his exhaustion level. He strips his shirt off as he walks into the corridor, about to take a quick shower before seeking out the munchkins, when he runs face-first into Prax.</p><p>Prax stumbles back, seemingly about to fall over until Amos grabs his shoulder to steady him. His eyes widen, taking in the state of Amos. Oh, right. He must smell disgusting.</p><p>Amos takes a step back, hand dropping from the shoulder. “Watch where you’re going there, Doc! I almost ran you over.”</p><p>Prax’s face is…well, red. Very red. He swallows, hard, before speaking.</p><p>“Uh, I was actually looking for you. The… kids were wondering where you were.” He won’t meet his eyes. For some reason this bothers Amos.</p><p>“Right, well I’ll be there in ten. Just gotta hop in the shower first, as you can tell,” he continues, gesturing at the stinking sweat drying on his chest. Prax’s eyes follow the trail, and he swallows again before looking back up. He nods, and starts to turn back the way he came. Then, pauses.</p><p>“I was also going to ask.”</p><p>He’s silent for long enough that it’s weird. Amos raises his eyebrows and nods patiently for him to continue.</p><p>“Tomorrow evening. Fred Johnson wants to question the kids separately, as part of evidence about the protomolecule. I’m not allowed to be there. Which is, well, terrifying,” he finishes in a humorless huff of laughter. “Jim and Naomi said they would be there the whole time, but I was wondering. I could use a distraction.”</p><p>Fucking Fred Johnson. He couldn’t seem to stop taking.</p><p>“Tell you what, Doc. Why don’t you meet me at the Blauwe Blome after your own interview? Biggest bar in the place, impossible to miss. We’ll get you a drink. Seems like you’ll need it.”</p><p>Prax smiles at that and nods.</p><p>“See you then,” he responds quietly, before turning and leaving.</p><p>That night, Naomi sits on his other side for dinner. He looks at his plate the whole time, and only talks to the kids.</p><p>--</p><p>The thing is, he knows he’s being an asshole. He’s never begrudged anyone doing exactly what they want to do, and Naomi shouldn’t be any different. It shouldn’t.</p><p>It is.</p><p>He lies on his cot that night, wide awake. Remembers the interview, him giving clipped, blunt responses to her questions. After his last reply (“Why should I hire you?” / “Well, there’s nobody in the galaxy less afraid to die, so there’s nobody more useful for a crew.”) he expected a startled laugh or thoughtful look. She just stared, silent for a minute, before nodding.</p><p>Later, he asked her what made her choose him. She smiled at him, sadly.</p><p>“I’m trying to escape myself, Amos. You look like you have experience with that. I think we’re meant to be together.”</p><p>And that was that.</p><p>He should get up and find her. Apologize, tell her what she wants to hear. Not mention how it feels like his biggest tether to the world is snapping. Disguise the rage rising up inside of him at the thought of being alone again. He should get up, he thinks, but before he finishes the thought, it is sunrise. Rin is sitting on his chest and yelling something about how Amos is making them late for exploring Tycho.</p><p>--</p><p>Naomi corners him after Jim goes to talk to Fred Johnson and Prax, Alex, and the kids disappear to a food court. She holds up her taser.</p><p>“Don’t think I won’t go the ugly route to make you talk to me.”</p><p>Amos raises an eyebrow. He can take her. She knows he can take her. He knows that she knows he can take her.</p><p>He sighs.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>--</p><p>They go to the Blauwe Blome. She opens her mouth to speak and he raises a hand to stop her. Orders three shots of Halpenny and downs them immediately. Swallows the burn down before nodding at her to talk.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>He groans. “Naomi, you don’t have to-”</p><p>“Shut <em>up</em> and let me finish. I love you, Amos. You’re my family. You will always be my family. Nothing happening here is going to change that.”</p><p>He says nothing. She grabs his hand.</p><p>“When we first met, I was trying to run away from my past. I didn’t think I was capable of anything good. There was so much blood on my hands, I-” she falters. There are tears in her eyes. “You were the first person to believe in me. To look at me like there was good left in me. You built me to where I am, Amos. To a place where I can actually believe in myself. And if I don’t take this amazing <em>gift</em> you’ve given me and do something with it,” her voice cracks. Tears are now falling down her face, free. “I could never forgive myself. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew what the Belt needed, knew my people’s history of oppression and didn’t do anything to help, now that I actually can. I know I’ve gone about this all wrong. I know I should have told you that I gave the protomolecule to Fred. I just... knew what you would say. And I didn’t want to doubt this decision. For once, I wanted to believe in a choice I made. I know it’s selfish. But do you understand?”</p><p>He wants to tell her that understanding it is not the problem. That she’s allowed to follow whatever noble crusade of hers she wants, and that she never needed his approval to realize she could save the world. That he’s never begrudged the Belt their right to fight back. It was just that he thought they belonged to each other, him and her, in a way that he thought she felt too. That if she had only asked, he would have followed her to whatever distant corner of the Belt she was going to radicalize. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t asked.</p><p>Instead, he orders another drink. Drains it, and says “I get it.” Wipes his mouth with the back of his left hand. She searches his face to see if he’s going to say anything else. He isn’t.</p><p>She nods, looking at her lap, and wipes the tears from her face.</p><p>“Okay. Take care. And please, take care of the others.” She gets up and leaves.</p><p>He stares blankly at the bar, not seeing anything. Fuck it, he thinks.</p><p>He gets up and runs after her. She looks startled when she turns around, but can’t get a word out before he’s crushing her into a hug. She catches on quick, clings on for dear life.</p><p>“When you come back,” he says, low, into her ear. “We’ll still be here. Waiting.”</p><p>She muffles a sob, her face pressed into his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything else, but holds her tight, probably too tight for comfort. She doesn’t complain as they stand there, shaking, for a long time. When she finally draws back, she wipes away her tears and kisses him on the forehead. Holds her right hand to his cheek, smiles, and makes the Belter symbol for well wishes. Then, she turns around and leaves.</p><p>He goes back to the bar and orders seven more shots.</p><p>--</p><p>Hours later, he’s right on the cusp of oblivion when the stupid fucking memories start flooding in.</p><p>
  <em>Dark, cold, drip drip drip. He is clutching a hand and it is warm but weak and then cold. It drops from his. Drip, cold, drip, cold, he is shaking, there is blood roaring in his ears, and his teeth are chattering and all he can hear is the teeth chattering and the pain, why does the pain never stop Lydia said the pain stops after -</em>
</p><p>God fucking damn it. He knows better than to drink this much. He throws way too many bills on the counter and gets up, stumbling away from the bar. There’s only one thing that helps when this happens, and thankfully, the Blome is overflowing with it. He picks the first one that attracts his eye and drops down at the corner table. The man smiles at him, knowing.  Draws a gentle finger over Amos’ hand.</p><p>“Need some company this evening?” Despite the cocky expression, the man has wide, expressive eyes that make him feel, somehow, safer. For the second time that night, Amos throws a stack of bills onto the counter. He grins.  The man raises his brows.</p><p>“Wow, maybe I’m the lucky one, huh? Sure I’m worth it?”</p><p>Amos tilts his head, considering. Grabs the man’s collar and drags him in for a filthy kiss. The man kisses back ferociously, biting and using his tongue in ways that answers the question for Amos. Yes. Yes, this would work just fine. Somewhere, distantly, he feels like he might be forgetting something. It’s on the edge of his memory when the man tilts his neck back and proceeds suck a bruise into it right there in the bar, and all conscious thought flies out of his mind.</p><p>When the man pulls back and gets up to lead him to the second venue, his blood is pumping and his dick is hard. The memories have receded to their locked corner in the dark recesses of his mind. Perfect. He grins again and gets up, adjusting himself to make sure he can walk.</p><p>He turns to exit the bar when he sees him. Prax looks oddly blank-faced and smaller than usual. He’s holding Mei’s backpack and what look like a packet of those duck dumplings he’d been wanting to try on the station. When they make eye contact, Amos blinks for a second. Then, he glances at the clock.</p><p>Fuck<em>.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Like I said, it will get better! It's not called slow burn for nothing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Here are your upturned hands, give them to him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A surprise Prax POV episode! </p><p>No warnings that I can think of apply to this chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He suspects something is wrong from the moment Naomi shows up, slightly late and oddly sullen, to their meeting with Fred Johnson. Her eyes are slightly red, and given that he had last seen her disappearing with Amos before lunch, he connects the dots. Still, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jim, but Naomi seems to know Fred better, has more pull. Between the two of them, the children would be safe. Not that this keeps his anxiety at bay. In spite of his best efforts, Mei seems to sense his fear and keeps her hand curled in his until he is asked to leave.</p><p>He knew this was coming. Still, he hesitates and glances at Naomi and Jim. They both put on what he’s sure they consider comforting smiles, and nod. Naomi still doesn’t look her best, but this was always going to be a tough day for her.</p><p>“We’ll be here the whole time,” Jim says. “And come find you with them once we’re done.”</p><p>Prax nods and drops down to one knee next to Mei. They’ve spent hours preparing for this. He’s been assured that they won’t have to answer anything they don’t want to, and Naomi swore to him that she would take over questioning if Fred put a toe out of line. But still.</p><p>“I’ll see you so soon, okay?” he whispers. She smiles at him and kisses his cheek. They touch foreheads for a second. He gives the other children hugs before heading out the door, glancing briefly over his shoulder as he goes.</p><p>There’s a little park outside headquarters. Prax sits down on the first bench he sees and tries to calm his breathing. This is ridiculous, he thinks. She’s right in that building. She’s with people you trust. You’ll be back with her soon. An hour, tops. An hour is nothing.</p><p>It doesn’t help. He had thought the same things last time too. That she was just in the sector next door. That he trusted Strickland. Even before the kidnapping (the aftereffects of which have him panicking when Mei so much as walks out of the room), he hadn’t quite gotten used to this. The feeling of his heart living outside of his body, running around with dimples and braids.   </p><p>He doesn’t know why he didn’t anticipate the need to stay glued to this bench, eyes fixed on the building until she emerges. He should have asked Amos to meet him here, to keep him company in this vigil. But he couldn’t do that. Amos had already done so much, too much for him. The least he can do is meet him at a place of his choosing, especially when Amos is giving up some of their precious time on Tycho for Prax. He takes a few more measured breaths before willing himself to stand.</p><p>On his way to the bar, he figures that food might help with the anxiety. He circles back around to the food court and buys a pack of those famous duck dumplings that the crew was always going on about. Amos especially seemed to like them. Then again, Amos wasn’t particularly picky about food. Still, this might improve what was sure to be a shitty mood. He briefly considers whether he should even find him and intrude in the aftermath of his goodbye with Naomi. Prax doesn’t know much about their history, or really much of what was going on with the tension on the ship these days, but he knows it couldn’t have been an easy conversation. Especially considering the lengths Amos seemed to have gone to in order to avoid it. Still, they had planned to meet. It would be rude not to show up. And though Amos was largely considered the most dangerous of the Rocinante crew, it had been a long time since Prax had felt anything but safe around him.</p><p>It’s easy enough to find the packed bar (Amos was right, it’s impossible to miss), but scans the whole place twice without seeing him. He’s about to dig his comm out of Mei’s backpack (where he forcibly stashed it to avoid obsessively checking for updates) when something catches his eye. There. Far-left corner table, familiar coveralls, sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos. He’s already seated and talking with someone. Suddenly, without warning, Amos yanks the stranger closer, and the two are kissing.</p><p>Prax’s breath hitches. Something hot and unpleasant erupts in his stomach. He should look away, especially since they’re practically groping each other in public at this point, but he doesn’t. He keeps watching, even when the stranger starts running his teeth down from the mouth to the collarbone, which, judging by the way Amos suddenly clutches the edge of the table, he was enjoying. A lot.</p><p>He’s glued to the sight, despite the tension coiling inside of him. Somewhere, distantly in the back of his mind, he’s taken aback by the intensity of his response. This part is overshadowed by the hot sting of… what, anger? Confusion? Jealousy, his mind supplies unhelpfully. He has no time to ponder this ridiculous thought because the stranger is suddenly standing, and turning to leave the bar. He’s headed in Prax’s direction, Amos in tow.</p><p>He schools his face into a neutral expression just as Amos catches sight of him. His face gives nothing away at first, never does, but then he frowns and glances at the clock on top of the bar. His eyes widen, and he starts walking towards Prax in earnest. Or rather, stumbling. The reason becomes clear when he draws near and the waves of alcohol coming from his breath almost bowl Prax over. The other thing that becomes apparent is the sizeable bulge straining against the crotch of his pants. Prax studiously does not look, though the air around him is suddenly, uncomfortably, hot. Looking at his face doesn’t help much, since his gaze is automatically drawn to the dark, purpling bruise below on the neck. Something continues to burn violently in his stomach.</p><p>“Doc! Fuck, I’m sorry. I was drinking and I-” he’s slurring in a way that Prax has never seen. “I lost track of time.”</p><p>Amos looks at him, wide-eyed and earnest. Prax is careful not to let his concern or unnamed inner turmoil slip into his expression.</p><p>“Is Mei okay? Are the kids- the kids okay?”</p><p>“The kids are all fine. Everything is fine.”</p><p>They stare at each other in silence, until Amos glances at something over Prax’s shoulder. Right. The person he was leaving with.  </p><p>“Listen, you seem… busy. I told Alex I’d join him at the refugee services area,” he lies through his teeth. “If you want, I could just meet you back on the ship.”</p><p>“What? No,” he places a heavy hand on Prax’s shoulder. “I’m here! Let’s drink. Take your mind off all that Fred Johnson shit.”</p><p>Prax frowns at this.</p><p>“The last thing you need is more alcohol. Are you… okay?”</p><p>He hates that he’s not better at this. Amos is always the one taking care of him, and the one time he can return the favor, he finds himself at a loss for words. When Amos removes the hand from his shoulder at the question, he curses himself internally and tries again.</p><p>“I mean. I just saw Naomi, and I figured you might want to talk, or-” the suddenly shuttered expression on Amos’ face cuts him off.</p><p>“Okay. We don’t need to talk about it. But we’re not going to drink about it either. Okay?”</p><p>Amos stares at him for a moment longer before looking down at his feet. He runs a hand over his face as he looks back up.</p><p>“So, you’d be with Alex until Mei gets out of the meeting?”</p><p>The dismissal stings more than it should.</p><p>“Uh. Yeah. I said I could help him unload supply shipments.”</p><p>Amos nods distractedly, looking almost bored.</p><p>“Well, if you’re sure. I have some stuff I gotta do here, Doc. See you later tonight.”</p><p>As he walks past him to the still-waiting stranger, Prax can’t help himself.</p><p>“Amos.”</p><p>He stops and bends his head, clearly listening, but doesn’t turn around.</p><p>“Are you. Is this safe? You’re incredibly drunk. Can the… <em>stuff</em> you have to do wait?”</p><p>At this, Amos grins wryly over his shoulder. He looks amused.</p><p>“I can take care of myself, Doc.”</p><p>He walks away. Suddenly numb, Prax turns to walk in the opposite direction, back to headquarters. He stops himself from looking to see where Amos and the stranger go, but it’s a close thing.</p><p>--</p><p>He probably should actually go find Alex, but collapses the park bench instead. Sits with his elbows on his knees and stares at his hands.</p><p>Okay. He’s a scientist. He can walk through this logically. At the very least, it keeps his mind off of the near-crippling anxiety over Mei. If it’s jealousy that’s gnawing his gut, which, yeah, it is, he really can’t deny it at this point, what was he jealous over? Amos spending his time with someone else? Forgetting their plans? Both of these would be incredibly unfair of him to begin with, but also don’t quite cut it as explanations. He mentally crosses them off and moves on. Is he jealous, in some twisted way, that Naomi’s departure clearly cuts Amos so deeply? Is he wondering how Amos will react when he leaves, and hoping, selfishly, that he will care enough to spiral? That… could be part of it. But, as his annoyingly attentive mind points out, he didn’t recognize it as reckless behavior until later, when he smelled the alcohol on Amos. And anyways, how narcissistic would it be to wonder if his leaving could compare to the departure of Naomi, with whom Amos seemed to share some darkly-forged, unbreakable bond?</p><p>He sighs and lets his head drop into his hands as he arrives at the inevitable conclusion. He has… feelings for Amos. Feelings that apparently go deep enough to make him instantly, insanely jealous at the sight of Amos kissing someone. Briefly, he lets his mind drift back to the memory. Envisions the stranger’s mouth on Amos’ neck, the resultant bruise showing starkly as Amos stood talking to him. Unbidden, a new mental image crops up. He sees himself in that position. Kissing Amos. Running his hands down his sides. Biting a bigger, darker mark right over the strangers’, unrepentantly marking him so that nobody would have any doubt that- fuck. What the <em>fuck.</em></p><p>He has to take several deep, meditative breaths before he can think again, and studiously pushes the mental images out of his head. He’s a little surprised that these feelings snuck up on him, a fairly self-aware person. Then again, he’s been just a tad distracted lately. Losing one's home, friends, daughter, and sense of security could do that to a person. He finds he’s not actually surprised by the feelings themselves, though. Amos gave him back a home (however temporary), a friend (however one-way the relationship), a sense of security, and finally, his daughter. How much time had they spent together at this point? How many nights had he watched Amos contemplate the chess board with the same intensity he dedicated to everything else? Against his will, he thinks about how the stranger from the bar would be the full focus of that intensity right now, and shivers at the chills that erupt down his spine. He stands up at this and reminds himself to get a grip.</p><p>On maintenance days, he and Mei liked to count how many plant shoots were growing in the cracks of old planters in the warehouses. She was fascinated by how they could grow in the leftover dusting of soil in the boxes.</p><p>“In harsh environments,” he had explained, “plants can grow even when they have access to only the tiniest bit of soil and water.” He had put his thumb and index finger together to show how tiny, and proceeded to pinch her nose. Her giggles had echoed all through the warehouse.</p><p>He was like one of those plants, leeching off of the steady warmth and kindness that was Amos and his protection. He should have been tripping over himself with gratitude over his luck. Instead, he had grown entitled to the man. Well, no more of that. He would maintain a friendly distance and wish nothing but the best for whoever Amos chose care about that way. They should only be so lucky.</p><p>By the time Mei spills out of the building and rushes into his arms, he’s firm in his resolve.</p><p>--</p><p>The journey from Tycho to Ganymede is a colder, quieter one. The crew is subdued in Naomi’s absence. Jim and Alex are always on the bridge talking to Chrisjen Avasarala or some other official as they plan out their route to the Ring. When Amos isn’t with the kids or working on the ship (his work has doubled with Naomi gone), he spends hours in the gym. Despite his own decision to distance himself, this leaves Prax feeling cold and alone. They don’t talk about that evening on Tycho.</p><p>The only bright spot is the kids’ enthusiasm, which increases inversely with their distance to Ganymede. Though he tries regularly to caution and remind them of how different things will be back home, their happiness remains undimmed. Then, one evening, a message comes over on the ship’s comms.</p><p>It’s Kabala, his social services friend from Ganymede, looking unnaturally pleased.</p><p><em>“Praxidike,” </em>the message relays. <em>“Call me immediately when you get this. Make sure the children are in the room the conversation. Important news about their families.”</em></p><p>When they finally get in touch, Kabala is practically beaming, which Prax doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. But when he hears the miraculous news, so is he. Some of the family members have survived. Kabala has spent weeks tracking them down across Ceres, Tycho, the Belt, and Mars. Rin’s mothers are in refugee housing on the Belt. Tilly’s older sister is still on Ganymede. Raina’s aunt is working on the docks of Tycho (and Prax’s heart aches that they missed her while they were there), while Aarcha’s grandfather hopped transporter jobs from Tycho to Mars to Ceres.</p><p>“<em>They are on their way to Ganymede,”</em> Kabala tells the children, though by the time the message gets through the delay, they can barely hear it over the chaos that has erupted over the bridge. Prax watches Mei hug the life out of her yelling and jumping friends and realizes that he never needed to remind any of them to prepare for the worst on Ganymede. They always knew. Young, too young for this trauma that wizened them beyond their years. But here, now, there was sudden hope. He can’t stop the tears from spilling, hot, down his face. When he wipes them away, he looks up to see, unexpectedly, Amos looking right at him. Tentatively, he smiles. Amos beams back, and his heart leaps. Warmth is unspooling, soft, inside his chest. When the kids pounce onto Amos and demand that he wrestles all of them at once, he laughs alongside Jim and Alex.</p><p>--</p><p>One particularly eventless afternoon, he wakes up from an afternoon nap to find the bedside empty. Panic rises in his throat as he scrambles out into the hallway, choking on Mei’s name. Then he hears her voice, clear as a bell, in the cabin next door. Amos’ door is half open, but Prax leans on the wall instead, willing his heart rate to calm down. Me is fine. Mei is safe.</p><p>“But I’ll miss you so much! What will we all do without you?”</p><p>There is a beat of silence.</p><p>“You wanna know a secret?”</p><p>“Yes,” she whispers, incredibly loudly. They really need to work on her whispering.</p><p>“Your dad? He’s the best of the best. He knows how to make anyone feel safe and special, and he’s not ever going to let anything else happen to you. As long as you’ve got him, you’ll be just fine.”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” she says impatiently. Prax allows himself a smile at that, though his heart has renewed its heavy thudding. “But we want you, too! Who else will spin us around like engine fans? And what about when Rin and Aarcha and Tilly get scared of the dark?”</p><p>“Well… what do you do when you get scared of the dark?”</p><p>“I wake up my dad!”</p><p>“So just like you, the others will wake up their family, won’t they? And for a while, you’ll all be living in the same place, so they can find you and your dad too, if they get scared.”</p><p>Mei doesn’t respond. Prax can almost hear her thinking.</p><p>“I’ll make you a deal. Every chance I get, I’ll come by Ganymede and spin you kids around. How about that?”</p><p>Her answering question is quiet. “You really can’t come with us?”</p><p>“Fraid not, sweetheart.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because…this ship? The Captain and Alex? They’re my family. We stick together, just like you and your dad.”</p><p>She sighs, defeated.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“But hey, I have a present for you! I’ll teach you, but your dad’s an expert at this point, he can show you the ropes.”</p><p>Suddenly weary, Prax goes back and lies down in his cabin. An hour later, he pretends to wake up when Mei comes bounding in and jumps on him, showing off her brand-new chess set.</p><p>--</p><p>The night before they land on Ganymede, Alex whips up a soy-based dessert that somehow tastes real. Jim gives the kids a present that he and Naomi had apparently worked on together- story panels, one for each of them, with the bedtime stories that the crew had told over the past few weeks. When a chorus of pleas asks Amos for another telling of the crew’s water-grenade based rescue of the Rocinante, Amos actually gets up and acts it out, dragging Alex and Jim in for improvisation that has the children clutching their stomachs with laughter. Prax just watches it all and thinks that one lifetime isn’t enough to thank this group of people.</p><p>When Mei and Raina are fast asleep, he makes a not-too-smart decision. He grabs what he needs, slips out quietly, and knocks gently on the door next to his. When Amos appears in the doorway, he beckons at him to come out.</p><p>At the sound of the door closing behind Amos, he holds up the chess set.</p><p>“One more game. For old times’ sake.”</p><p>Slowly, softly, Amos smiles.</p><p>--</p><p>They play four games, each winning two. Decades later, will still be one of Prax's best memories.</p><p>--</p><p>When they finally return to the cabins, it is quiet. Finally, Amos breaks the silence.</p><p>“Well, goodnight, Doc.”</p><p>“Yeah. Goodnight.”</p><p>Neither of them moves to open their door. Prax swallows. This is the only chance he will get.</p><p>“Amos, I can’t thank you enough. For the children. For Mei. For everything. I can’t even name everything you’ve done for me. But I know Mei and I wouldn’t be here without you.” It’s not enough. It will never be enough. He will waste his days away, forever indebted to this man’s kindness.</p><p>Amos looks confused.</p><p>“Doc. That was all you. You never gave up on Mei. You found her. You saved her and the others. You found their families. These kids are going to grow up safe because of <em>you. </em>All I did was shoot some people.”</p><p>Prax shakes his head in awe. He wants to tell Amos that he doesn’t even see it, how spectacular he is. How he envies the confidence with which he, Amos Burton, lives his life by a simple set of rules and loyalties that take others decades, a lifetime to develop. How he makes everything safe with his presence. How the same callous-ridden hands that hold guns also hold plants and innocent children with love and care. He wants to tell Amos that he is never going to be able to forget him, as long as he lives.</p><p>Instead, he whispers: “You did so much more than that,” and slips into his cabin.</p><p>--</p><p>The actual drop-off in Ganymede is an easy affair. Kabala meets them at the dock with transport to their safehouse near his work site in Sector F. Tilly’s sister Petal is already at the safehouse, with the others’ family members close behind. Prax says his goodbyes to Jim and Alex before the others wake up, thanking them in earnest for their help and reminding them to call on him when they got the chance. He learns that they’re both apparently big huggers.</p><p>The children say weepy goodbyes to the crew. Amos kneels down and does a special handshake with each one that they’ve apparently developed over the past few weeks. Reminds them of the specialized night lights he packed for each of them, and the breathing exercises they’ve been practicing for when they wake up from scary dreams. Hugs each of them for a long time, Mei the longest.</p><p>Then the kids are all loaded in the shuttle, and it’s just him and Amos left. This time, he breaks the silence.</p><p>“Well, this is it. Keep me posted on your adventures in the Ring. Tell me about any new plants you find.”</p><p>Amos grins.</p><p>“Will do. Take care, Doc. You’ll have Ganymede up and running in no time.”</p><p>Prax huffs a laugh. Then he thinks, what the hell.</p><p>He reaches forward and pulls Amos into a hug. Amos releases a surprised huff of air but responds quickly anyways, wrapping his arms around him with a crushing strength. Warmth is radiating off of him. He smells like soil and machine oil, and it almost brings tears to Prax’s eyes.</p><p>When they finally pull back, he commits one final, reckless act. He leans over and lightly kisses Amos’ right cheek. It’s a soft brush of the lips, barely real, but he feels the stubble. Hears the sharp intake of breath from Amos. Then, bravery and idiocy spent, he turns around and joins Mei. His last view as the shuttle pulls away is the sun high behind the Rocinante, its three crew members standing in front, waving goodbye.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Much more to come! Hang in there! Also find me on tumblr @hibiscusly if you want to</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Something that forgets what his hands are for when they aren’t shaking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'll say this again, I can't believe people are actually READING this story that I started writing for my poor gay soul at 3 a.m. one night! I'm flattered! This is a filler chapter, but an important one. Big things coming up!</p><p>No warnings that I can think of for this chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once again, the ship dynamic is changed. It’s quiet on board, the silence broken only by their Ring-related conversations. Amos takes to the gym with an almost reckless drive, grunting and sweating out his anger (at Naomi? the situation? himself?) until he’s tired enough to fall into a dead sleep. When he’s not there, he’s tending to the plant panels (Prax panels, he’s started to call them). It becomes a bit of an obsession, checking every clipping, root, and leaf for signs of discoloration. He makes more panels, monitors lighting and temperature every few hours. The air quality on the ship is up by 36%, but nobody really cares.</p><p>The one thing he doesn’t do is call Prax. He knows he said he would; he just has no idea what to say. Hasn’t known what to say since Tycho. Anyways, Prax hadn’t called either, so it’s just as well. Amos is glad, really. Hopes that he, the <em>Roci</em>, and all the other shit since the Ganymede incident become nothing more than a faintly unpleasant memory for Mei and the Doc.</p><p>Still. It’s a quiet ship. He finds himself automatically reaching for tool assistance during repairs and remembers Naomi’s absence all over again. He imagines Prax’s usual sarcastic response to something Cap or Alex say, only to be met with silence instead. When the documentary assholes join the ship, he almost decks the camera dude who tries to claim the cabin next to his. He offers no explanation as to why.</p><p>Naomi is the first to break the ice by calling. It’s awkward at first, even with Cap beaming at the screen. He looks tired. He always looks tired, these days. Alex makes a weak attempt at a joke, something about how Naomi must be missing his high-class cooking, and they’re all laughing. Naomi seems more content than he’s seen her in a while, and Amos finally feels the last of his anger dissipate. He can’t begrudge her this. She was too good a person to stay chained to a fuck-up like him. It was inevitable that she would follow her righteous path, someday. She can’t check in often, but the few calls they exchange, even with increasingly long delay times, loosen some of the tension Amos has been carrying around.</p><p>If he’s being honest with himself, Amos is lonely. Which is a weird feeling, considering he’s been alone most of his life and never had a problem with it before. But the fact of the matter is that he and Naomi were a matching set for years, and now they weren’t. And Prax, well. Amos doesn’t have the energy to untangle all that shit. He’d made his peace with the fact that he would miss Prax, well before the farewell on Ganymede. Missing people was just common practice aboard the <em>Roci</em> these days, so he tells himself to get over it. And yet. Occasionally, his mind still goes back to the bar on Tycho. The empty look on Prax’s face when Amos had forgotten about meeting him. The need to send him away before he caught on to the vast emptiness threatening to swallow Amos alive. Trying and failing to fuck the man he paid, and jerking off in a public restroom instead. And despite his best attempts to tire himself out in the gym, he can’t entirely avoid his memories of what came next. How he tried to imagine the stranger’s lips around his dick, but ended up imagining Prax instead. His earnest eyes looking up at him, sweat forming on the vivid lines on his forehead, that faded spot on his left eyebrow. How he found himself coming, suddenly, hard and helpless, faster than he’d he had in a while.</p><p>Amos doesn’t want to make anything of it. He was drunk as fuck, feeling guilty about abandoning Prax, and yeah, the Doc had a nice body. They’d been living together for weeks, had even bunked together temporarily; he was bound to notice. Nothing to it.</p><p>All he knows is, he hopes Prax is doing well. Him and Mei had been through enough shit for a lifetime. They deserve peace and quiet, far, far away from Amos and the death that tends to follow him around.</p><p>So, he keeps his head down. Breaks his records in the gym. Maps out their entry into the Ring with the others. Plants new sprouts all over until the ship is bursting with green. And when the documentary dicks ask him about the person who inspired the panels, he answers more honestly than he intends to: “he was my best friend in the whole world.”</p><p>---</p><p>In the end, it’s not either of them that calls first. It’s Mei. He notices the message after ducking into his cabin to avoid another annoying sexual proposition by that Stuart woman. It’s labeled <em>“Incoming message: Praxidike Meng”</em> and he forgets to breathe for a second. When he opens it, Mei’s face fills the screen.</p><p>
  <em>“Amos! Amos! It’s me, Mei!”</em>
</p><p>She hasn’t figured out the proper way to hold the comm yet, or maybe she’s too excited to care. All he can see is her smile and dimples. The screen wobbles for a second, and the rest of her face finally comes into focus. He’s filled with a surge of fondness at the sight.</p><p>
  <em>“Amos guess what! I told my friends about how you took over your ship with water grenades and they don’t believe me! Can you tell them the story? And tell them how water grenades are real? Nikola says I’m lying!”</em>
</p><p>The screen wobbles some more.</p><p>
  <em>“You still remember me, right? Daddy says we shouldn’t bother you because you’re on a super-secret mission in space. But I miss you! Rin and Aarcha and Tilly and Raina do too! We talk about you all the time! I know Daddy misses you too! Okay, I have to go because I’m not actually supposed to be using Daddy’s comms. But send me a message back! I bet Nikola seven Gan-beads that I’m right and I can’t lose.”</em>
</p><p>The message cuts out, and Amos is left grinning at a blank screen. It’s better than any endorphin rush, seeing the kid’s happy, safe face again. He studiously ignores the way his breath hitched at her comment about Prax missing him, focusing instead on her request.</p><p><em>“Hey sweetheart. How could I forget my favorite plant teacher? I’m sending you some pictures of my new panels, you’ll have to judge them for me. You kids can message me anytime, even if I’m on a super-secret mission, as long as your dad is okay with it. No more stealing his comms, okay? As for the story about the </em>Roci<em>, it all started when me, Naomi, and Alex were stuck in a shuttle while Uncle Jim was trying to argue with a Martian captain to save our lives-”</em></p><p>---</p><p>With a five-hour delay, he doesn’t expect to hear back anytime soon, if at all. But just twelve hours later, the incoming message icon blinks. This time it’s both of them on the screen. Mei is gleefully holding up shiny, painted rocks.</p><p>
  <em>“I won, I won! I showed Nikola I’m not a liar!” </em>
</p><p>Prax is smiling at her indulgently. When he turns to the camera, his voice is soft.</p><p>
  <em>“Those panels look mighty good. We’ll make a botanist out of you, yet. Mei and I had an idea about doubling the growth of the Areca palms.”</em>
</p><p>Mei takes over at this point, bouncing up and down while explaining how to replant <em>Dypsis</em> cuttings to grow little plants from each one. Amos is listening, but also focusing intently on Prax’s smile as he watches Mei. He hopes Mei never knows how lucky she is that her dad is so singularly dedicated to ensuring her safety and happiness. It’s what she deserves. It’s what every kid deserves.</p><p>After she explains the final part of the process (moistening the soil every three days), Mei bounds off to brush her teeth, kissing Prax on the cheek and blowing one to Amos as she leaves. Prax turns back to the camera, still smiling.</p><p>
  <em>“It’s good to hear from you, Amos. I… we’ve missed you. I’ve meant to message, I just didn’t know if you’d want to hear from us, with all you’ve got going on. You’re closing in on the Ring soon, right? I’ve been following the news as well as I can. Coverage is pretty shaky here. Restoration is going pretty well, though. I’ve been thinking of a new way to install mirrors that borrows from the physics of those barriers you added on the panels. Basically, I start with…”</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>It becomes a routine, somewhat akin to the one they had before finding Mei. Mei and Prax check in, Mei leaves to get ready for bed, and Prax talks to Amos alone before going to tuck Mei in. He tells Amos about the ongoing construction, the various education programs cropping up in the continued absence of formal schooling, the makeshift greenhouses he’s made, and his various battles with authorities on resource distribution in his sector. Since Amos is living in monotony for months until they reach the Ring and he can only complain about the documentary people so much, he tells stories from his past. The early days of his apprenticeship. His favorite dive bar in Baltimore. The time he and Naomi had to pretend to be a couple to dock at a Mormon station that didn’t allow single people. He’s never told some of these stories before, but somehow, he doesn’t mind with Prax.</p><p>One night, all the kids say hi to the whole crew, jostling one another out of the frame to claim the screen. He watches this with Alex and Cap, who grin when Raina and Aarcha show off identical gaps in their teeth, smugly claiming that no creepy tooth fairy showed up. Tilly pulls her sister into the frame to say hi, while Rin sits on Prax’s lap and shows off the new sweater his moms knitted for him. Mei jumps into the background of almost everyone’s message, grinning or making shapes over their heads with her fingers. It’s the first in a long time that Amos can remember Cap looking so carefree, or Alex smiling so genuinely. He lets Cap start off the response message with a passionate but futile defense of the tooth fairy legend.</p><p>---</p><p>By the time they arrive at the Ring, communications from Tycho and Ganymede have slowed. He expects this, with the delay so long now that the turnaround for communications is days. After wrestling with the decision for longer than he wants to, Amos sends one last message before they take the plunge.</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, Doc. Hope you and Mei are doing okay. Tell Mei that I’m on her side about this whole Misko and Marisko debate. You just don’t get the high-stakes world of dinosaur friendship like we do. Anyways, I wanted to check in before we enter the Ring. This is it. Might be a whole new world on the other side. Guess we’ll find out.”</em>
</p><p>He pauses.</p><p>
  <em>“Listen, if we don’t make it out of this. I need you to do me a favor. There’s a Lydia Maalouf Allen living somewhere in Baltimore. At least, I think she’s in Baltimore. If you can, I need you to get something to her. I have a bank account at the UNGB. I’m sending the login details with this video. There’s some money in there, under her name. If you can get it to her, I’d appreciate it. And tell her… tell her I’m sorry. And that I love her. If you can’t find her, don’t sweat it. No big deal. Either way, split whatever money is left between you and Naomi. Take care of Mei with it.”</em>
</p><p>He means to end the message here, but is overcome by a surge of recklessness.</p><p>
  <em>“And Doc… for what it’s worth, you were my best friend, too. I’ve missed you. We all have, but I probably have the most. I almost sent Elio through a wall for trying to take your cabin. Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it.” </em>
</p><p>He laughs quietly.</p><p>“<em>So, anyways. Take care of yourself. The world’s better with you in it. You thanked me once for taking care of you and teaching you. But truth is, my head’s been all kinds of fucked up lately. And meeting you, talking to you… has helped. So has all the planting. So, thanks. For taking care of me, and teaching me. You’re a better friend than I deserve. Hope I see you on the other side of this whole thing.”</em></p><p>He records separate messages for each of the kids, doing their respective unique handshakes in each one and reminding them how to breathe when they wake up from nightmares. Then, before he can overthink it, he hits send on them all.</p><p>---</p><p>Between the assholes screwing with their comms, being framed for the murder of a spaceship, and Cap flinging himself out of the fucking airlock, Amos fully expects to die in the Ring. He’s mildly surprised when he doesn’t. Instead, Naomi is back, pressing her forehead to his and looking like she’d never left. Except-</p><p>“You changed your hair.”</p><p>It looks good, he thinks, before he loses consciousness again. When he wakes up again, he’s no longer bleeding. Naomi is still there, working on him. She looks… real.</p><p>“Are you back?”</p><p>She looks at him and smiles tentatively.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Back to help? Or back to stay?”</p><p>“Stay. I guess it took being away to understand that… you’re my family.”</p><p>She’s called Amos her family before, but he knows this time she’s referring to all of them. Despite the blood loss, for the first time in a long time, he feels okay again.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>And that’s that.</p><p>---</p><p>When the dust finally settles, they fly out of the Ring through one of the hundreds of new portals. Portals that opened up because the ghost of Miller told Cap how to save the day, or some shit. Amos has no idea what to make of this whole Miller thing. He never liked the guy when he was alive, and seeing Cap talking to thin air is weird for everyone. If Miller really is back and guiding people through the protomolecule, it makes sense that he would pick the one with the never-ending noble streak. If the dude had appeared before him, Amos would have fired three rounds at him on principle. Naomi would have at least talked to Cap about it, and Alex wouldn’t have shut up until they’d all made pros and cons lists about the consequences of engaging. No, Cap was the right, easy mark. It annoys the shit out of him that Miller, the protomolecule, whoever the fuck, would target him like this. Cap’s a good man, if annoyingly altruistic. Doesn’t deserve to have his head fucked with. So, Amos remains vigilant. He’ll have his back, when the shit hits the fan on all this.</p><p>On the plus side, the four of them are together again for the first time in months, and their excitement infects the whole journey back to Earth and the Belt. Alex sings again while cooking, tuneless and off-key, and they all smile at the sound. At dinner, Naomi sits closer to him than usual and covers his hand with hers at every opportunity. Cap and Naomi don’t leave their cabin for eighteen hours that first day, and for days after continue to sneak off like honeymooners. The dark circles under Cap’s eyes start receding, slowly. When Amos sleeps, the darkness doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore.</p><p>It’s not until several days after their exit from the Ring that he manages to charge and check his comms. He’s not surprised by the waiting message from Prax, but his pulse picks up at the sight anyways. There’s no Mei, no other kids on the screen. Just Prax, looking pale.</p><p><em>“I’ve tried recording this a few times and keep messing up what I want to say. I guess I’m not even sure what I want to say. Though I’m sure of one thing: you’re an </em>asshole<em> for dropping that on me before going off to die.” </em></p><p>Prax’s mouth is pinched. Amos frowns.</p><p>
  <em>“Not the favor thing. Of course, I’m happy to do that for you. I would have done that, or anything you need. All you had to do was ask. Didn’t have to be a death wish! You just…”</em>
</p><p>He sighs, apparently frustrated, and runs his hand through his hair in agitation.</p><p>
  <em>“You have no idea what you are. What you mean to people. What you mean to me. Do you think James, Naomi, and Alex just keep you around because you’re the muscle of the operation? Do you really think that little of yourself? It’s not you that doesn’t deserve me, Amos, it’s the other way around. You’re incredible. And I care about you. Not because you’ve saved my life countless times, not because you saved Mei, but because you, the person, are someone I want in my life. Even when you’re mixing up peace lilies and spider plants, or snoring too loudly, or leaving really annoying, stupid messages. I don’t call just anyone my best friend.”</em>
</p><p>Amos’ throat has gone dry, and he struggles to swallow.</p><p>
  <em>“Anyways, you won’t get this until you’re out of the ring, which is why I feel justified being kind of a dick. If you don’t return, well.”</em>
</p><p>He pauses and turns even paler.</p><p>
  <em>“I’ll deal with that if I need to. I choose to be hopeful, like you were about Mei. And by the way, you were wrong. You said Mei had one person looking out for her. Maybe that was true before I met you, but it’s definitely not true now. She has you. And I want you to know that you have us. That I’m looking out for you. And I’ll be waiting for your message once you get out. Take care of yourself, asshole.”</em>
</p><p>Prax blinks at the screen for a few seconds before reaching over to end the message. Slowly, the screen grows dark, reflecting Amos’ stunned face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Prax is like that Jenny Slate tweet.... he just wants to grab Amos' little face and scream "ON PURPOSE, ON PURPOSE I AM GOING TO CARE ABOUT YOU"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Repeat to yourself "I won't leave you, I won't leave you"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amos Burton, he thinks furiously, while the most gentle, loyal, insightful, and brilliant man he knows, is also a stubborn and inconsiderate idiot with lower self-esteem than James Holden. He can’t believe he’s in love with this man.</p><p>(Yes, that’s the first time he’s admitted it. Yes, that makes him even angrier.)</p><p>---</p><p>Chapter warnings: PTSD, nightmares involving children &amp; other people dying, discussion of trauma in general. Prax is going through it too :(</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prax doesn’t care much for space. Never has, even though Belters are meant to walk in the stars the way Inners walk on solid ground: with ownership and confidence. His sense of belonging doesn’t come from the barren, pitch black of space; it sprouts from damp soil, blooms in the nurturing warmth of light. He is never more at peace than when he has his hands deep in the soil, sweat dripping from his forehead as water drips from fruit-laden leaves in the humidity of the greenhouse. No happier sight to him than watching Mei bounding towards him, reflected in hundreds of ways across the dome mirrors (he often pretends not to see her, lets her sneak up on him and pounce onto his back). Much like his plants, he is alive in the soil. Safe.</p><p>In his PhD acknowledgements, Prax had quoted an old Earth text:</p><p>
  <em>“But just as paying attention to another person fosters intimacy and makes us feel less alone, perhaps scientific observation allows us to enter into a similar relationship across species. By listening, by returning to the grove time and again, by tuning our ears to the sounds of beings unlike ourselves, we begin to reenter… “the great conversation” between humans and other forms of life. This too can have a grounding effect, can help stave off a different, larger, and more gaping loneliness. If anything is sacred, it is this, I think.”</em>
</p><p>It was a last-minute addition before submitting his thesis, one that came to him as he watched daybreak filter through the dome glass one morning. He stood alone in the greenhouse, watching the pale sunshine sifting through the branches of the taller trees. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the anticipation of bursting life. His own verdant paradise of inquiry and safety, green as far as the eye could see. He closed his eyes for a moment, felt the promise of it settle in to his skin, and thought reverently: this is all I will ever need.</p><p>He was wrong, of course. He realized that when Nicola kissed him for the first time. When he told her he loved her, right in the middle of a fierce debate about the appropriate spice level for edamame. When he clutched her hand, impatiently rubbing tears out of his eyes to see the little baby on the ultrasound screen. Their Mei, as tiny as a soybean. Again, and again, every second of every day after Mei’s little hand curled around his finger for the first time. And, though he tries not to think about it, again when Amos stopped a drill from piercing through his helmet in zero-G.</p><p>He knows that there are bigger things in his life now. That Mei is the biggest part of his heart, all-consuming and larger than life. But science is a hard second, a magic that speaks the language of the universe. His position as eco-technician grants him the freedom to marvel at evolution’s creativity while increasing food and medicine access for Belters and Inners alike. It’s a good life.</p><p>Until someone launches a fucking missile into Ganymede and turns it into a place of nightmares.</p><p>---</p><p>Restoration life is hard, even with Mei by his side and the other kids somewhat settled with their families. Though Earth and Mars are invested in Ganymede’s repair, they care more about the arms race at the Ring, and money trickles in slower every day. Meanwhile, basic infrastructure is virtually nonexistent. Housing is scarce, Prax only afforded a unit due to his role on the redevelopment project. Surviving teachers set up informal schools in flimsy tents riddled with holes. The only source of food and water comes from the increasingly infrequent humanitarian aid ships. He spends as much, if not more, time arguing with government officials and writing emergency aid requests as he does with actual restoration work.</p><p>And then, there’s the issue that crops up anytime he’s actually rebuilding the greenhouses. The prickling sensation of fear that crawls up his spine anytime he looks at a mirror. The panic that cripples him when the growth lights switch on and remind him of the blinding glare right before the crash. The nightmares are one thing, but it’s frustrating that he can’t escape in his waking moments. He’s a scientist. He knows trauma’s effects on the body, and he’s certainly undergone enough to be feeling them. But he doesn’t have time for this. There’s a job to be done, and he needs to snap out of it and see it through. There are so many around him that have been through so much worse (including Mei, especially Mei), and they weren’t falling apart. He has to show up for them. He has to show up for Mei. If only the mind over matter attitude worked.</p><p>He’s reading next to a sleeping Mei one night (he’s lucky the unit is so small; he can’t imagine the fear having her sleep in another room) when she shifts and slowly blinks up at him.</p><p>“Can’t you sleep, Daddy?”</p><p>He closes his book, places it on the floor next to him.</p><p>“Not yet, but maybe soon.”</p><p>She frowns.</p><p>“You haven’t been sleeping much at all. Are you having bad dreams, like I did when we were on the ship?”</p><p>If only he and Nicola hadn’t been such geniuses, their kid might have ended up slightly less insightful.</p><p>“Sometimes, but I’ll be okay. What about you?” He ruffles her hair. “You sleeping okay?”</p><p>“Sometimes I get scared, too.” Her voice gets small, quiet. “Sometimes I dream that I’m still in Dr. Strickland’s room and I’m being put into a little box. Or I see Katoa acting really scary and glowing blue. But then I wake up and you’re there, so I remember that I’m safe.”</p><p>His heart and gut clench. Pain, sharp and unyielding, lodges in his throat. He had let this happen. He had failed her. And now he was failing her all over again, too weak to work properly and make Ganymede safe again.</p><p>He slides into the covers until he’s lying down next to her and pulls her close. She snuggles into his chest, coming even closer. He speaks the next words into her hair.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Mei. I’m so sorry that this happened to you. You’re right, though. You’re safe now. I am always going to be here. I’m going to make sure that nothing bad ever happens to you again. I <em>promise.</em>”</p><p>His voice breaks on the last word. Mei pulls back a little and looks at him with concern, placing a small hand on his face.</p><p>“I know that, Daddy. I’m not worried about me. But who’s going to take care of you?”</p><p>He laughs, somewhat shakily.</p><p>“I’ll be fine, Mei. I have friends that help me, and we take care of each other. Don’t worry about me, okay? It’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around.”</p><p>“Friends like Amos?”</p><p>“…Amos?”</p><p>“Yeah! You told me he helped you when you were scared that you couldn’t find me. I bet he could help you now! We should call him!”</p><p>The immediate surge of anxiety and excitement he feels at this suggestion is juvenile. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He’s thought about it, a <em>lot</em>. But he can’t. He can’t keep relying on Amos to carry him when he feels weak. Can’t keep leaning on him, no matter how safe it feels. It’s not fair to Amos.</p><p>“Honey, Amos is busy right now on an important mission. We really shouldn’t bother him.”</p><p>“But I bet he’d want you to bother him, Daddy! He cares about you, like I do!”</p><p>He stands firm.</p><p>“He’s got more than enough going on right now. We can try to call him when he’s back from this mission. But for now, we can’t. And no sneaking behind my back to do it anyways, okay?”</p><p>She pouts, but nods in defeat.</p><p>“Time for you to get back to sleep. Come on, back in bed like a morning glory at sunset!”</p><p>She rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Dad, I’m already in bed. And morning glories don’t even grow on Ganymede.”</p><p>“But apparently sass does! I’m quizzing you on space-sensitive angiosperms at breakfast, you’d better rest up.”</p><p>Mei giggles and settles into the covers. He kisses her nose before turning off the reading lamp and curling up next to her. Even after she falls into a deep sleep, he remains wide awake, listening to her breathe.</p><p>---</p><p>In his dreams, spider plants are crawling up the sides of a crumbling dome. He tries to climb up and stop the eventual collapse but turns to see bodies floating all around, bumping on the glass. Their mouths are open in silent screams. He starts shooting at the bodies to try to return them to the ground, but keeps missing. They all turn to look at him. They are all Mei. Blue crystals are erupting through her and she is reaching for him with glowing arms. He screams until his throat is raw, but cannot get to her. The spider plants start shriveling and catch on fire. They burn and burn, filling the dome with a blinding white light that hurts his eyes. As the ceiling collapses, so do the hundreds of dead Mei’s that were floating in the air. The ground disappears under him as Amos picks him up and carries him out of danger, just as the flaming debris hits.</p><p>---</p><p>When he sees an incoming message from Amos Burton a few days later, he narrows his eyes in suspicion at Mei. She makes a supremely unconvincing face of innocence. They watch it together, and Prax feels lighter than he has in ages. He can’t find it in himself to reprimand her.</p><p>---</p><p>He feels guilty for a while, taking up Amos’ time like this. Maybe not his literal time, since he doesn’t seem to be doing much besides hating the documentarians on board and waiting until they arrive at the Ring, but still. Surely Amos has better things to do than swap stories with Prax. When he says as much, the next message opens with Amos rolling his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>“Doc, do I seem like the type of person who does anything he doesn’t want to? Quit being stupid. To answer your more important question about winters in Baltimore…”</em>
</p><p>He doesn’t bring it up again.</p><p>---</p><p>It’s not like Amos fixes anything- the funds are still minimal, the housing untenable, the trauma still leeching the strength from his bones. But talking helps. It’s been so long since he had someone to talk to like this. A confidant. When he talks about the panic attacks, Amos suggests a breathing technique that he learned in his apprenticeship. When he complains about the UN fiscal consultant, Amos calls him a fucker and suggests shooting him in the kneecap to make him more agreeable. The dreams recede in intensity, ever so slightly.</p><p>The problem, ironically enough, is Amos himself. His increasing presence in Prax’s life is a welcome relief after his distance after Tycho and radio silence of the past few weeks, but irksome just the same. With every stupid smile, incomprehensible jokes about ship engines, and startlingly honest stories about his life, Prax’s feelings for Amos flare back up with staggering intensity. It is annoying, to say the least. He thought he had more or less shelved this problem, but admits defeat after the twelfth time in a row that his heart skips at a new message notification. When he wakes up after yet another dream about Amos showing up at his door on Ganymede, he glares at the ceiling.</p><p>He is doomed, apparently, to smile softly at the way Amos tells a story with his hands, to memorize the cadence of his speech, to think of funny asides that he would say about the UN assholes. To feel safe at the mere memory of him. To want him from afar.</p><p>Whatever. He can deal with it. The <em>Rocinante</em> is so far away now that they communication delay has gone from hours to days. With the very real chance of comm failure in the Ring, Prax will take his time with Amos where he can get it. He isn’t about to let messy, unrequited feelings infect their friendship.</p><p>---</p><p>Of course, this resolve flies out the window the second Amos drops the “I might die but you’re my best friend” bomb. His mind goes blank. He can’t untangle the emotions flooding in- terror at the thought of Amos dying, irritation at his chronic lack of self-esteem, elation at the realization that Amos cared about him so much, anger at his terrible fucking timing. Also, the irrational jealousy over whoever this Lydia is that means so much to Amos.</p><p>It’s not that Prax was naïve about the dangers of entering the Ring. His own experiences aboard the <em>Roci</em> had given him a good sense of how close to death the crew was at any given moment. Enter the element of knowing virtually nothing about the Ring or protomolecule, and the likelihood of bad outcomes was too high to count. But Amos hadn’t mentioned it, not once, through nine months of conversation. The one time Prax brought it up, Amos had shrugged it off. But he had clearly been thinking about it, planning for this outcome. And for him to leave money for Prax, call himself unworthy of Prax’s friendship, thank him for everything… to simultaneously recognize Prax’s importance in his life and offer him these meagre scraps in the way of a goodbye? It makes him livid.</p><p>Amos Burton, he thinks furiously, while the most gentle, loyal, insightful, and brilliant man he knows, is also a stubborn and inconsiderate idiot with lower self-esteem than James Holden. He can’t believe he’s in love with this man.</p><p>(Yes, that’s the first time he’s admitted it. Yes, that makes him even angrier.)</p><p>It’s too late to send a message that would get through before the <em>Rocinante</em> passes through the gate, which Amos clearly knew. So instead of something optimistic and cheerful, Prax lets him have a piece of his mind. It’s nothing Amos doesn’t deserve to hear, if he makes it back through.</p><p>The next day, he holds his breath with the rest of the world, watching as the <em>Roci</em> breaches the Ring Gate.</p><p>---</p><p>The dreams return, with a slight twist. Prax is aboard the <em>Rocinante</em>, where cracks are spreading all over the hull. Crystals spread from blue light that pours through the cracks. When he runs to look for sealant tape in the kitchen, Mei is being strangled by a cloud of blue lights. The closer he gets to her, the harder she screams and struggles, telling him to stop. Suddenly, the plant panels crash to the floor as Amos runs through them and pulls Mei out of the clouds. He shoves her into Prax’s arms, just as the blue lights strangle him instead. Prax watches, helpless, as crystals form all over Amos’ body, finally impaling and dropping him to the ground. Blood seeps out from under Amos, forming a river of red that mixes with the soil and plants. Mei is screaming in his arms and Prax is frozen. Then the <em>Rocinante</em> explodes, and he wakes up.</p><p>---</p><p>Like everyone else, he is glued to the live coverage of the Ring. He loses his appetite. There are permanent dark circles under his eyes. When Mei complains that she misses Amos, all he can do is hold her tight and tell her that he does, too.</p><p>He is half asleep late one night, staring at the news with burning eyes, when the ships finally reappear on the other side of the Ring. The lists of confirmed fatalities start pouring in. Prax scans and scans, watches the re-runs three, four, seven more times before confirming that none of the <em>Roci</em> crew is on the list. Starts shaking uncontrollably, head in his hands. He runs through the breathing exercises Amos taught him until the shaking stops. Then, drinks three full glasses of water, crawls under the covers next to Mei, and falls into a rare, dreamless sleep.</p><p>---</p><p>He doesn’t hear from Amos until a full week and a half later, at which point he promptly drops and shatters the screen on his comms. The search for a replacement takes so long that he has to get Mei from school, make dinner, and put her to bed before he can finally press play, hands shaking. Amos is on the screen, healthy and beautiful as ever. No visible wounds, stitches, or bandages anywhere.</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, Doc. We made it out, which you probably know by now. I’m sure you’ve seen footage of the millions of new portals we opened up in there. I’ll get to that in a second. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. It’s been kind of crazy up here. The good news is, we’re all safe, Naomi is back, and nobody died that we care about. The bad news is, Miller’s speaking to Cap and some weird shit is going on. But before I tell you about that…”</em>
</p><p>He trails off for a second, looking down at his hands, and back up before speaking.</p><p><em>“You’re right, that was a dick move, leaving you that message. I’m sorry.” </em>Another pause. “<em>I’m not the best at talking about my feelings. Truth is, I’ve never really had to before. Never had someone like you to call me an asshole and tell me that they care about me in the same breath. Well, except for the </em>Roci<em> crew. But none of them have your level of concern.”</em></p><p>He leans forward, an earnest expression on his face.</p><p>
  <em>“All that nice shit you said? I’m flattered. But I’m not going to agree. You’ve seen me at some dark moments, but I’ve seen me through all of them. I’ve got the full history, Doc, and trust me when I say that some people are beyond redemption.”</em>
</p><p>His eyes are staring right at Prax, bright and clear.</p><p>
  <em>“You’re a good guy. I’m not. I pick my people and follow them. Just cause my people right now happen to be the good guys, doesn’t mean they always were. I’ve only lately started thinking about right and wrong, trying to make choices for myself. Mostly, I just try to be useful. Because that’s what I am. Useful. And Naomi, Cap, Alex? They know that. Doesn’t mean they don’t care about me, but they wouldn’t put up with me if I wasn’t. That’s just the facts. But thank you. It’s nice to know that you care.”</em>
</p><p>And then:</p><p>“<em>I meant what I said, by the way. You’re my best friend, too. You’re one of my people. I’ve got your back. There you go, I said it without death hanging over me. So now that we’ve cleared that up, get ready to hear about the wild shit that went down in the Ring.”</em></p><p>Prax pauses the message at this point and closes his eyes. Sighs deeply, counts to ten, and then continues.</p><p>---</p><p>His reply is short:</p><p>
  <em>“You’re right that some people are beyond redemption. But you’re not one of them. Nobody that cares about Mei the way that you do can be bad. I know that there’s stuff I don’t know about you. But the fact that you’re trying to do the right thing now is good enough for me. Someone truly beyond redemption wouldn’t care about that. I know I probably can’t change your mind on this. But since I’m your friend, maybe my opinion has some weight. Who knows?”</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>“Also, I have seven working theories on this whole Miller protomolecule thing. I’m sending a message to Jim right after this.”</em>
  
</p><p>---</p><p>Four days later, amidst a description of travel negotiations around the Ring and the card game Alex was trying to teach them:</p><p><em>“Trouble is, I don’t </em>know<em> what the right thing is. When Ganymede was shutting down, I was ready to let everyone die because I didn’t want to open the </em>Somnabulist<em>. Naomi saved fifty-two people. All I was thinking about was bloodbath that would happen if we opened those doors.”</em></p><p>---</p><p>After Mei finishes describing in detail how she wants Amos to make her a Misko and Marisko-themed night light:</p><p>
  <em>“Naomi relied on Belter loyalty on Ganymede, which could have easily backfired. She took a bet, same as you. Either one of you could have been wrong. Nobody is ever certain what the right thing is. I’m certainly not. I’m the one who trusted Strickland to take care of Mei. Look how that turned out.”</em>
</p><p>He swallows the familiar burn of guilt at this, breathes deep before continuing.</p><p>
  <em>“We’re all just trying. Sometimes we fail. It’s normal.”</em>
</p><p>He tries very hard to practice what he preached.</p><p>---</p><p>After Amos shows Mei the beginning stages of the night light:</p><p>
  <em>“Quit beating yourself up about that, Doc. Not your fault that Strickland was a well-connected fucker with tunnel vision. Mei’s safe now. She knows she has you. That’s what matters. You’re the best parent I’ve ever met. Maybe the best person. All that shit is in the past. Doesn’t erase all the good.”</em>
  
</p><p>He pauses. Leans back, eyes widening.</p><p>
  <em>“Well shit. I guess I kind of see your point.”</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Prax sets up the chessboard so that he can record himself calling checkmate on the king. Sends the video with no additional commentary.</p><p>---</p><p>Three months later, he sees a promo for an “exclusive interview” with Monica Stuart, promising to reveal hidden details about the events of the Ring Gate. There also appeared to be a book deal in the works. He forwards it to Amos, already grinning.</p><p>In return, he gets a fifty-minute-long rant from the entire crew, beginning with Alex and Amos detailing their theory on the bullshit she’s been trying to sell as the truth and then launching into her crimes on the <em>Rocinante</em>. Jim jumps in to correct details here and there, and Naomi, never having met the woman, just sits there smiling and responding in outrage when appropriate. Towards the end, Amos adds on, as an afterthought:</p><p>
  <em>“Also, she and that camera guy kept making moves on me. Told ‘em I don’t shit where I eat. Still didn’t take the hint.”</em>
</p><p>Alex laughs.</p><p>
  <em>“Well, with them biceps, they had to shoot their shot!”</em>
</p><p>He starts poking said biceps, at which point Amos tackles him to the floor and derails the whole conversation. Naomi turns to the camera, rolling her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>“Right, we’ll let the boys be boys and sign off. Hope you’re well, Prax. It’s good to hear from you. Tell Mei we say hi!”</em>
</p><p>Her and Jim wave goodbye, and the screen goes dark.</p><p>---</p><p>Prax adds at the end of his next message:</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry about the objectification from the doc crew. True about the biceps, but some are simply unworthy.”</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em>“Careful Doc, you almost sound interested yourself.”</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>A whole week later, he finds the courage to respond:</p><p>
  <em>“Didn’t say I wasn’t.”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you thank you THANK YOU as always for reading! I'm verklempt!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>